A HandKnit Sweater
by Of Glorious Plumage
Summary: The five times Kirk borrowed one of Spock's sweaters and the one time he repaid the favors. Rated for language. Slashy K/S pre-slash.


_This thing popped into my head and I had to write it. Fanfic is taking over my life. *sigh* It's done in the 5 + 1 style, but wasn't from a prompt or a meme anywhere._

_I own nothing - although I wouldn't say no if someone offered me that awesome sweater Spock was wearing in Reboot._

_Reviews are more than welcomed - especially .. It's great to know if people love it, but what I really need is for someone to tell me what I suck at and how to improve. _

_Warnings: Bad language (whoa - F-bombs!) and the beginning of epic K/S romance._

* * *

A Hand-Knit Sweater

(a.k.a. – The five times Kirk borrowed Spock's sweaters, and the one time he repaid the favor)

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The First

Though he's never been one for following the rules, much less making them, James Kirk is considering implementing a new one on the _Enterprise_, and maybe using the leverage he has from being the Captain of Awesomeness who saved the Federation to make it an intergalactic law. It would be a bit hard to enforce, but he can start with some big signs around the _Enterprise_ proclaiming that there will be:

"NO TRIBBLES ALLOWED ON BOARD. ANYONE IN VIOLATION OF THIS RULE WILL BE SUMMARILY COURT MARTIALED BY ORDER OF CPTN KIRK."

He's pretty sure Spock will back him up with it (not that it would matter if Spock_ didn't_ – he's James T. fucking Kirk and he can do whatever the hell he wants on his ship).

But before he puts the signs up, he has to deal with the furry little problem that provoked his ire.

_Well, not so little any more,_ Jim thinks as he surveys the literal sea of fur around his feet. It covers the deck of the bridge, creeps down the hall and into the turbolift, spawns voraciously in the halls, invades Engineering and Sickbay, and somehow makes it into the ventilation system. To think it started out as one tribble. Just one.

They end up beaming the tribbles onto an attacking Klingon Bird-of-Prey. It's a very tidy solution: some fancy transporter work and _poof!_ they've killed two birds with one stone (and in the case of the Klingons, the dead Bird is a very literal metaphor). Jim consults his mental checklist: Kirk = still awesome, Klingons = all dead, Tribbles = all dead.

"Captain! Ah know you dinnae want these, but one o' them's the original and Ah'd like to keep the lass." Scotty's charming brogue disguises the horrific truth of the meaning of his words, but as the message sinks in, Kirk is gripped by a nauseating sense of anger and fear.

"Scotty," Kirk says, as he turns to face his chief engineer, "please, for the love of god, tell me that you didn't actually keep any of those goddamned furballs onboard." His voice is icy and slow, because he already knows the truth, and he really, really doesn't like it.

Scotty blanches and clutches a humming bundle of fur closer to his chest. "You see, Ah dinnae know which one is my Enya, but these look like her, and I figured…." he trails off in fear at the expression on his captain's face.

Spock, alarmed (though he would never admit it) by the tension between the two, leaves off his confirmation of the ventilator system's operating status to intervene. He takes a position between Kirk, who is sitting rigidly in his captain's chair, and Scotty, standing nervously by the turbolift. The tableau is ringed with the faces of the bridge crew who are watching the exchange as they would watch a particularly gruesome car crash.

"Excuse me, Captain, Lieutenant Commander," the half-Vulcan interjects smoothly, "while it would be inhumane to dispose of the tribbles, neither can we let them procreate. May I suggest confining them in an area with a temperature exceeding 45.8 degrees Celsius until we reach an appropriate location to deposit them? High temperatures inhibit their ability to multiply."

"What?! Spock, are you taking _his_ side?" Jim is outraged.

"Thank you, Mister Spock, that's an excellent suggestion if Ah do say so meself." Scotty is exultant.

Jim tries again: "You were all for 'disposing' of them on the Klingons – what makes this so different?"

"It is different because our lives are no longer in danger -"

"They could start spawning again!"

"And if I could continue without interruptions, I would appreciate it. As members of Starfleet, we have a duty to preserve _all _life, even tribble life, when we can and when it does not endanger our own survival. If we keep them in conditions that prevent them from 'spawning', as you so vehemently put it, there will be approximately only a 0.1 percent of danger to our lives. If we assign a detail to keep watch over the tribbles, in case of an unforeseen emergency, that percentage decreases to 0.005."

Jim Kirk is brilliant in many ways. But not brilliant enough to argue with Spock and Scotty and possibly Uhura, if the way she's nodding approvingly at Spock's words is any indication. Sulu and Bones would be on his side at least. He's not sure about Chekov – the kid usually took Sulu's side because of the 'hidden' love affair between the two, but he also suffers from a misguided sense of hero worship that has been focused on Spock ever since Spock reassured him that Amanda Grayson's death wasn't his fault.

With a few muttered curses in a variety of languages that make Uhura look at him with the slightest smidgen of respect, Kirk capitulates.

Two hours later, Kirk is officially on "tribble babysitting duty". Unfortunately for him, it's with Spock. After a year of serving together and becoming close friends, Spock knows Jim just as well as Jim himself does. He knows that, if left alone, or with a crewmember sympathetic to his anti-tribble feelings, Jim Kirk would waste no time shoving every tribble out an airlock.

Things go quite well for a little while. They're in Spock's quarters because he altered his personal environmental controls near the beginning of his time on the _Enterprise_ so the temperature in his room could be adjusted to a Vulcan's level of comfort – in other words, a temperature far higher than the ship-wide systems would ever actually allow if he had not tampered with them. The men are quiet, at ease in each other's presence, although Kirk will mutter things about 'pacifist, bleeding-heart Vulcans' every time a tribble gets near him. Spock just raises an eyebrow at the teasing and keeps an eye on the captain to make sure he doesn't overheat.

But, tribbles being tribbles, the peaceful situation quickly changed when one of Spock's periodic counts revealed that there were three more tribbles then there should have been.

"Do we get to kill them now?"

"Your eagerness for their deaths is disturbing, sir."

"So is your goddamned compassion for them. And how many times to I have to tell you to call me Jim? But, seriously, please can we get rid of them now? Pleeeease?"

"No."

"But look! There's more of them! That's dangerous! Our lives are in danger! We need to kill them now! It's us or them!"

"No. We will simply increase the temperature. It should be enough."

"Yeah, mister smarty-pants? In case you've forgotten, we have the fucking temperature up as high as it will go. Now I bet that you and I together can override the systems in a few hours so we can crank it up higher, but it'll be quicker to toss them into the warp core."

"If we find a material that intensifies heat that we can wrap the tribbles in, we do not have to adjust the environmental controls."

Jim wonders if he should argue with Spock, but a quick look at the other's face is all he needs to dissuade him of the idea – though technically as expressionless as ever, Spock radiates an aura of determination and stubbornness. Hastily, the two begin to search for something to keep the tribbles warm. One of the things Jim finds is a sweater, thick and knobbly and baggy, folded nicely on the edge of Spock's bed.

"Spock, you mind if I borrow this for those little monsters?" he asks, holding it up.

Spock pauses for a moment, almost looking conflicted, before nodding his assent.

----------------

The Second

It takes a while before Jim forgives Scotty for the whole tribble thing, and while he's still angry, Scotty is on his best behavior: no experimenting with the engines, no messing with the transporter so it accidentally beams them into an evil parallel universe, no boozing on the moonshine he not-so-secretly distills. But the moment Scotty's assured he's back in the good graces of his Captain he instantly restarts the project he was working on before the tribble incident.

He was supposed to be increasing the efficiency of the central cooling and heating system so he could divert more power to the engines and boost their highest speed to warp 10.6.

Some people are startled when the vents start blowing icy air into the ship rather than the 'regulation room temperature' air, but no one is really surprised. When Scotty tinkers, the end results are spectacular, but the middle steps are often unpleasant. At least he never tested them in the transporter like he tested Admiral Archer's beagle.

A few hardy crewmembers just try to ignore the steadily dropping temperature and disregard the fact that their breath fogs in the air before them and that Dr. McCoy is running around making a fuss about hypothermia, but most people run to their quarters quickly to grab a jacket or sweater. Captain Kirk, however, is really pissed. He's cold and he just remembered that he has no warm clothing. He's on a spaceship: he's not supposed to _need_ warm clothing. Excusing himself from a conversation with his new yeoman, he stomps towards Spock's quarters – he knows his first officer has some sweaters, and hopes that he can be allowed to borrow one. He would ask Bones for one, but the doctor would probably refuse and stab him with a hypo instead, insisting that there was some medication that would keep Jim warm, but would probably just make him swell up with an allergic reaction.

"Damn it, open up, Spock, c'mon," he mutters as he bangs on the Spock's door. Eventually it opens, revealing what appears to be some sort of lumpy, fuzzy space monster that snuck aboard and ate Spock. "What the hell?" Jim gapes at the thing.

"Is there anything you required Captain?" Spock's voice issues from the monster.

"Is…is that _you_?"

"Is there anyone else who it would be?"

"There was that one time Uhura opened the door. Naked. Which was…_wow_."

"I must remind you that because Nyota and I mutually agreed to terminate our relationship, the possibility of her answering the door is slim."

Jim has found Spock's face amidst the blankets and sweaters draped on him, and he looks vaguely uncomfortable. He is about to ask why Spock is so bundled up, but remembers the whole "because Vulcan is a desert planet, Vulcans have adapted to that climate and they are severely affected by the cold, blah, blah, blah" lesson from the Xenobiology course he took at the Academy.

"I repeat: was there anything you required Captain?" Spock's voice disrupted Jim's train of thought.

"Um…for you to call me Jim? And a sweater. Please."

"You have none of your own, Capt – Jim?"

"Nope."

Spock unwraps himself from his blanket, drags one of his sweaters over his head, silently holds it out for Jim to take.

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The Third

"Hell! Bloody fucking hell!" Jim Kirk, just out of bed and getting ready to begin Alpha shift, has just discovered that his closet is empty. All his shirts, pants, boots – everything – is gone. He's really crept out by the fact that someone was _in his room _and going through his things. At first he thinks it's Cupcake – the man still holds a grudge from that little drunken misunderstanding when they first met – but then he remembers his new yeoman: a girl called Rand who weaves her hair into a basket and obviously harbors a massive crush on him. Not that he isn't crush-worthy. And he would be really flattered in any other circumstance – but he made a promise to himself not to sleep with his crew, and the girl gives off massive creepy-stalker vibes.

So Jim, regretting that he chose to go in the nude rather than wearing pajamas, wraps his sheets around his waist and runs down the hall to Spock's room. On the way he wonders why he's going to _Spock_. It used to be he would go to Bones. He tells himself that it's just because Spock's room is closer. He disregards the little voice in his head asking him if he really believes that – he is Captain James T. Kirk the Awesome and he doesn't go running to his first officer for silly, emotional reasons.

In the middle of his own dressing routine, Spock answers the door shirtless. Jim is...discombobulated. For a long moment he can only stare. Why has he never realized that Spock was so sexy? His XO has a glorious body, lean muscles and defined planes and a subtle green tinge and luxurious-looking chest hair and –

"Jim!" By the intensity of Spock's tone, Jim can tell that it isn't the first time his name was called.

"…Good morning. I, uh, wanted to see if I could borrow a shirt – mine are missing?"

"Is there something on my chest? You seem to be staring at it," observes Spock wryly.

Mortified, Jim snaps his eyes up to meet Spock's, then wishes he hadn't. He feels as if he's being sucked into a vortex of dark intensity, eaten by the depth of Spock's soul, drawn into something so vast and unexplored and new that he is frightened and –

And Spock blinks, turns away.

"Most of my uniform shirts are dirty. However, you can borrow a pair of pants and a sweater until you find your own."

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The Fourth

Chekov and Sulu are throwing a holiday party, incorporating traditions from all the major Terran religions: a Christmas tree, menorahs, a small Shinto shrine that Sulu had in his quarters for some reason, Yule blessings, anything and everything the crew wanted. The only catch was that people had to be wearing seasonal clothing to be admitted.

Jim has no 'seasonal' clothing. He has Starfleet uniforms. (He was never able to find out who took his clothes, which still disturbs him, and while he was able to requisition new uniforms, he hadn't gotten the opportunity to replace his civvies.)

But Jim can't not go to the party.

He knows Sulu and Chekov will let him in no matter what, because he's their captain and their friend, but it would be lame for Jim to show up in his gold Command shirt. And he _has_ to go – he's Jim Kirk and he always makes a point to be the life of the party.

So Jim asks Spock if he can borrow a sweater, again, because that's maybe kinda sorta seasonal and it's better than nothing.

Spock gives him one that's not quite as lumpy as the others and was done in red and gold yarn – it's surprisingly festive. Jim ignores the way Spock watches his fingers as he strokes the soft material when he offers his thanks.

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The Fifth

The fact that an alien race is actually obsessed with sweaters amazes Jim. After all, seriously? Sweaters?

Their dignitaries demand that Jim put one on before they talk with him and he has to abide by their wishes. All it takes for Jim is one glance at Spock, a question in his eyes, and less than five minutes later Spock is returning to the conference room and placing a sweater in Jim's hands.

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An Interval

"Jim, I need to talk to you about Spock."

"What is it? I'm pretty sure people have learned not to steal his brain anymore. And he shouldn't be going through Pon Farr again anytime soon. …Shouldn't he?"

"It's nothing medical."

"Then what is it? It's not like you to not cut to the chase, Bones."

"I've just noticed that he lets you borrow his sweaters, and, well…."

"Big deal. We shared underwear in the Academy a few times, remember?"

"Goddamn it! Don't remind me, kid – I don't want to have to bleach my brain clean. And don't look so lecherous. Ugh."

"So, you were saying?"

"Uh, it's just that, Spock, I mean…."

"Spit it out, old man."

"He's very possessive of his sweaters. His mom knitted them for him by hand. Now they're the only things he has let of her. You need to appreciate what he's doing for you."

"How the hell do you know this? Did Spock tell you?"

"Green-blooded computer doesn't talk to me about his feelings."

"Then how – ah! Uhura told you."

"Yeah. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you need to understand how Spock feels about you."

"We're friends. I would let my friends borrow my clothes."

"Goddamn you! I'm trying to spell this out for you as simply as I can, but I'm not some goddamn kindergarten counselor!"

"Spell what out? …Why are you glaring at me?"

"Goddamn you and your thick skull and your fucking denial…."

"You're mumbling, Bones."

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The Last

It takes Jim a year, and it costs him a bit of his dignity at first. (By the end, that dignity is more than replaced as he realizes the value of what he did.) During that year he and Spock grow closer together, sharing conversations and dangerous missions and companionable games of chess. Jim has more near-death experiences than he care to think about, Spock only has three. Jim feels ever more comfortable in his role as captain of a starship, especially when Spock is at his side supporting him. He grieves when he loses crewmembers on away missions. He laughs, he loves, he _lives_. He begins to understand what Bones was trying to tell him.

It takes Jim a year, but he learns to knit.

It takes Jim a year, but he knits Spock a sweater.


End file.
